Blood Makes Noise
by Ohimesama
Summary: Doctor Sally Po receives a patient...Quatre, under the alias Quade, who has received a blow to the head during a battle, and can hear his blood and its driving him insane..Can Sally solve Quatre's problem?


Blood Makes Noise ****

Blood Makes Noise

Name: Ohimesama

Date: June 29, 2001

Disclaimer: Never Gundam Wing and its characters or Blood Makes Noise by Suzanne Vega belong to Ohimesama. They are not owned by Ohimesama, never will be. Kindly leave her alone.

Summary: Quatre visits a doctor, former Lieutenant Commander Sally Po of the Earth Sphere Alliance, at some random point during the war after the Alliance collapsed, overthrown by the Romefeller (?) Organization run by Treize Khushrenada, but before Heero Yuy won the end of the war. Sally Po is serving as a doctor in a base in Arabia, near Quatre's safehouse. Quatre has suffered a blow to the head, gained when Sandrock lurched to one side during a battle, and his restraining straps snapped. He is trying to talk to Sally…

Blood Makes Noise

  
****Doctor Sally Po sighed, pushing aside a torn length of canvas pretending to be a door separating the inside of her makeshift medical center from the wind-swept expanses of sand 'outside'. She had doubts about whether or not her medical center could be considered inside, since it seemed to have accumulated as much sand as the outside. She passed a hand over on of her twisted braids, her skin brushing countless grains of sand embedded between strands of hair, and tapped a pen against a dusty table.

"So who is here to see me again?" She inquired politely, grabbing a spare clipboard and a patient form.

The gruff man before her snorted into his expansive mustache before continuing. "My master is under the alias Quade. Please refrain from calling him by," he paused, and glanced around the shabby tent, "By what you know him as. A simple change is in order, I think. Nothing big."

Sally sighed again, envisioning the mountains of paperwork this 'simple change' was going to engender. "All right." She conceded, a little reluctantly, wishing for a way to avoid this mess. "What seems to be the problem with…Quade?"

"He has hit his head," The gruff man replied, relieved at the acceptance of the alias. "He…humph…um…" the man leaned toward Sally, and whispered, "Is it necessary for you to know the truth?"

"Rashid," she said, just a touch impatiently, "I need to know exactly what happened in order to evaluate his injury. I'm sure you understand."

It was his turn to sigh. "I understand." He agreed. "Could we talk in private?"

Sally held her temper in check, passing another hand over her hair in exasperation. "Rashid," she said, "Look around you. There is no one here but us. This is the waiting room, after all, and…Quade as already been installed in a patient examining room." Her logical mind winced internally at the thought of calling those barely held together tents 'rooms', but ignored the misnomer. "No one will hear us, I promise." She added blithely.

"My apologies, doctor," he said with a bow. "I fear I am overprotective of Master."

"It is all right," Sally assured him. "Now, what happened to his head, and how?"

"He hit it," Rashid started, "In the last battle. During the fight, Sandrock was thrown to one side by an enemy mobile suit, and the restraining straps across his chest snapped. He was thrown against the wall, striking his head on the metal. Unfortunately, he was not wearing a helmet."

"Which side of his head was it?"

"The left."

Sally toyed with the end of her braid. "I see." She said shortly. "I think I will go examine him now." She moved past him, and he laid a heavy hand on her shoulder."

"He has been…a little strange. Please disregard his comments."

"I think I can trust a Gundam pilot." Sally smiled faintly, remembering as always the brave Chinese boy, barely past childhood, and a fine Gundam pilot.

Rashid removed his hand. "Of course. Just…just warning you."

"Of course."

Quatre…Quade, as he was named on her medical form, was waiting patiently in one of the nicer tent rooms. He smiled genuinely, if a bit distantly, at Sally when she entered, brushing the canvas door aside.

"Hello," she said brightly. And then, in a lower tone, "Hello, Quatre."

"Hello." he echoed absently.

"You seem a little distracted, pilot." She noted, jotting down a note on the form. 

"My apologies," he said after a moment, "But…I'm listening."

"To what?" She asked, taking hold of his chin with one hand. He didn't even flinch, and his wide blue eyes remained slightly clouded.

"Mm…Blood makes noise." 

Sally's hand dropped back to her side, as she stared at him. The words rung something, deep inside, very briefly, and than vanished. She took hold of his chin again.

"I see." Sally said, turning his head, in the tones of one that, actually, doesn't see and rather wishes they did. She ran her fingertips across the smoothly rounded surface of his skull, her fingers moving through his downy blond hair. There was no bump where she expected one, or the slightest physical evidence of any sort of a recent collision with a hard, unrelenting metal wall.

"How did you hurt your head, Quatre?" Sally asked, making another note on her form.

He frowned. "I didn't." he replied, a touch confused.

"You didn't?" An incredulous note crept into her voice.

"No. No, I don't think so. Why?"

Could he have forgotten? One does not just forget an impact with a metal wall, though. Could this memory lose be an effect of the crash? No, the area of his brain associated with memory was not where Rashid reported the hit.

"Tell me what you remember of the last battle, Quatre." Sally ordered quietly.

"I…I…I remember flashes of light, explosions, blood…"

****

I'd like to help you doctor

Yes I really, really would

But the din in my head

It's too much and it's no good

"Do you recall being thrown out of your seat?" Sally questioned when he had finished.

"No…no…did that happen?" Quatre looked faintly, very faintly (for Gundam pilots were never supposed to show anything on their faces), worried.

"Well, Rashid reports that your seat straps snapped, and you were thrown."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, burying his head in his hands. 'I…I don't remember, I don't remember…I can't think right now…"

"Why not?" Sally's voice was still calm, soothing, but there was a sharper edge now.

"I'm still listening…" he muttered indistinctly.

"To what?"

"My blood…"

****

Like I'm standing in a windy tunnel 

Shouting through the roar

And I'd like to give the information

You're asking for but...

"I can't think." Quatre repeated. "I…I want to help, but I can't. I can't!" A muffled sob escaped the prison of his hands.

Sally leaned back in her chair, unaware of when she'd sat down, and fought to understand. "What…what are you listening to, Quatre?"

"My blood, doctor, my blood."

****

Blood makes noise

It's a ringing in my ear

Blood makes noise

And I can't really hear you

In the thickening of fear

She repeated the question, and he returned the same answer. His hands obscured his voice, but even if she ignored that, there was still a rather vague lilt to his voice, like he wasn't really paying attention, or even hearing her, just replying, as if by luck, to her questions.

It was infuriating.

"Are you afraid, Quatre?"

"Of what?"

"Of the sound of your blood?" Sally answered cautiously. She knew she was treading on the ice covered by psychologists, and as far as she knew, she'd had no prior experience in that area. She preferred basic injuries. Give her a broken leg or a cut arm, and she'd know what to do. But now…why was she even asking?

Because she wanted to know. The drive that shoved primitive doctors and shamans out of the forests of ignorance into the realm of modern medicine was plain, old curiosity. They wanted to know why humans ticked, and it progressed farther then anyone could have expected. And now, it drove Sally to question Quatre, as she hungered to know why he thought he heard his blood, and how it affected him.

"I'm afraid…of what it might mean. Am I going insane again?" He raised a tear-streaked face to her.

"Again?"

"I had…" Quatre's voice grew faint as his eyes stared into the past, "A experience… with the Zero System, you know, and I went insane…" his voice faded off, hanging in the air between them.

"Tell me."

****

I think that you might want to know

The details and the facts

But there's something in my blood

Denies the memory of the acts

So just forget it Doc.

"I…I can't." his voice rose in pitch and volume. "I can't, I can't, I can't!"

"Why not?" Sally stilled the anxious tremor in her voice, afraid to upset him further.

"I can't remember!"

"What is stopping you?" Sally held her breath, anticipating and fearing the answer—knowing what he would say.

"I told you! My blood, my blood!" He collapsed, sobbing.

"Your…blood?"

"Yes, yes!"

Sally blinked in confusion, and the blonde wept again, strange choking sobs that wracked his body, shoulders shaking, pale hair tossing in the air, blue eyes shut tight.

****

I think it's really

Cool that you're concerned

But we'll have to try again

After the silence has returned cause...

She waited as his crying abated, slowing and quieting, until he was still again.

"I'm sorry." He said. His voice was clearer, but the vagueness remained, diminished but there, as though biding its time for a chance to reappear.

"There is nothing to apologize for." Sally said briskly, but not without sympathy.

"Now what?" He asked dully.

Sally peered at him. Physically, he was fine. Mentally…she had met Quatre before, and he had never struck her as a particularly indifferent person. He had seemed lively enough, kind and generous, with a set of nice, normal traits you'd hope for in a neighbor.

"Well, I can prescribe some…relaxants for you, if you'd like…but…"

"But?"

"I can't guarantee it will work. If only you could describe this phenomena a little better, maybe—"

"I can't!"

"Um…" 

****

Blood makes noise

It's a ringing in my ear

Blood makes noise

And I can't really hear you

In the thickening of fear

Words hovered on the tip of Quatre's tongue, struggling to get around an unseen barrier. Finally, he gave up and settled for another petulant, "I can't!"

Sally was silent.

"Fear." She whispered eventually.

"What?" Quatre said, looking around, as if he would be able to get a glimpse of a monster lurking in a corner.

"You are afraid." Sally stated it calmly, like she would a known fact, the number of oranges on a table.

"I am not afraid!" Quatre shrieked. Sally blinked and then winced. She didn't think boys' voices were supposed to be able to get that high.

"Um…I see…" Sally tapped the bridge of her nose. "Well, without information, I can't help you." She rose, smoothed the folds of her jacket, tucked the clipboard under one arm, shot a pointed look at Quatre and pushed the cloth door aside. "Information." She repeated and left.

The pilot stared, his mouth open slightly. He extended one hand, reaching out into the space she had evacuated. 

"Wait…" he croaked.

****

I'd like to help you doctor

Yes I really, really would

But the din in my head

It's too much and it's no good

Blood makes noise

It's a ringing in my ear

Blood makes noise

And I can't really hear you

In the thickening of fear

"Don't leave me here…alone…with the sound…" he choked on his own words, thoughts half-formed clogged in his throat, unable to be free by the lack of concentration. His mind kept fleeing to the rushing, roaring sound, ringing endlessly. "I am afraid…" He said softly, his voice carrying only to his own ears. "I'm afraid…Help me…make it stop."

There was no response, only the strangled sound of his sobs, and the noise of his blood.

****

Blood makes noise

It's a ringing in my ear

Blood makes noise

And I can't really hear you

In the thickening of fear

"I don't know what's wrong with him." Sally confessed. "I couldn't get a straight answer out of him either. I'm afraid…" she glanced at the tent a few hundred meters away. It was dark, but in the dim glow from another patient's room, they could make out the hunched figure of Quatre, shaking in his unlighted tent.

Rashid frowned. "I am afraid as well." He admitted. "When the master first came out of Sandrock, I experienced fear. He was blinking in the sunlight…as if it hurt him. He is Arabian—sunlight could not hurt him." There was a brief silence as the doctor and the Maganac gazed worriedly across the sand. 'There is nothing you can do?"

Sally sighed, and shook her head. "No…without knowing the details of this 'blood noise', I have no way of exposing and fixing any medical problem he might have."

Rashid frowned again. "When he emerged from Sandrock, Master also said his head hurt—from the crash into the wall, I suppose. He also felt dizzy, and tired, but both of those could be side effects of the crash or the strain of piloting in the battle.

Sally considered. "Yes…" 

"Doctor? Could I have a few aspirin tablets, please?" A quavering voice called from a nearby tent. 

Sally sighed. "Hang on a moment, Rashid. I need to help this soldier." She shook a few caplets out of a white bottle into a small dish, and filled a glass of water. "Be right back."

Rashid watched her cross the sand, pausing to shake one foot as a breeze blew sand down her socks. She disappeared momentarily inside a lit tent.

"Thanks, doctor." The quavering voice said, sounding surprisingly better with a few painkillers inside the speaker's body.

"No problem." Sally straightened the blankets around the soldier's shoulders.

"Mm…now my headache will go away. I couldn't sleep with the rushin' sound of that damned migraine botherin' me." Sally's hands stopped mid-air, suddenly paying full attention to him. 

"What?"

The soldier wasn't really listening, focusing on the favorite pastime of wounded men—complaining. "Migraines," he said. "They are so damned annoying. I can hear the blood—whoosh, whoosh. Straight through my head." He sat up, looking around. "Doctor?"

"Quatre…" a soft voice, rousing him. "Quatre…"

He opened his eyes, blinking confusedly in the light.

"Quatre…" a gentle hand, shaking him.

He raised one arm, to ward off danger. It was slow and awkward, but automatic.

"Quatre…" a swish of cloth, leaving him. 

And there was silence. Quatre felt tears slide down his cheek in joy.

Silence, blessed, blessed thing accompanying space formerly filled with a ringing…the noise his blood made.

He turned his head, looking wonderingly at a fallen bottle on the table beside him, at the white caplets strewn across the tabletop. Quatre vaguely remembered taking a few. His eyes followed the curve of the bottle, down to the label, his blue eyes tracing the stark black words.

EXTRA STRENGTH APISPRIN FOR SEVERE MIGRAINES.

****

Blood makes noise

Blood makes noise

In smaller letters below, he read:

FOR USE IN STRESS OR TRAUMA RELATED HEADACHES.

Quatre smiled. No more noise. 

"After all, an aspirin a day keeps the doctor away!" Sally laughed as she filled a large bottle with aspirin tablets.

"For my favorite blond pilot." She added, handing the heavy bottle to Rashid. 


End file.
